Breakout
by AsreonInfusion
Summary: Sephiroth should have known better than to investigate too deep into dark depths of the Science Department labs. When he finds another human kept there, he knows he cannot abandon the young blond infantryman to be used as Hojo's experiment - but a decision like that has its consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is a fic I started writing a while back, based on a prompt Naru934chan PM'd me. Close to a year ago. Ohhh boy I fail. This first chapter was published on my Tumblr at the end of December, but I never posted it here because this fic really, really needed to be a multichapter. It didn't feel fair to post the first part and then immediately drop it, y'know? I didn't know if I would ever write more.

So, why am I posting it now? Because apparently I _am_ writing more. I started working on it and suddenly have a massive chunk of chapter two done, so this is now a thing that will happen. Well. Chapter two will happen, at least.

There is _planned_ to be eventual Sefikura, and eventual glorious mind-linked smut, but that won't be for a very long while yet. If I get that far. This is actually - dare I say it - a vastly more plot-centred fic than anything I've ever written before. Not that it takes much to achieve that. Ahem.

 **Warnings:** Medical trauma, human experimentation. Just Hojo doing his usual thing, basically.

* * *

Sephiroth watched the clock impassively as it blinked past 2100 hours. That made it six hours and forty two minutes that he had been stuck in the Science Department.

Hardly a record; after all, he'd spent most of his childhood in the labs. Even when not required for testing or enhancement, he simply had nowhere else to go. It was more unusual now that he was an adult and the highest ranking member of SOLDIER, since Sephiroth had far better things to be doing with his time. But Hojo would still call him in for further assessments as whim took him.

The majority of the department had long since gone home. Only a handful of technicians remained, most of them attending to various machines that were analysing the samples of blood Sephiroth had recently given. It was terribly dull.

He was required to wait until all the results had come through – more tests or samples could be required, depending on the results – but he was becoming bored with the whole process.

"I'm going to stretch my legs," Sephiroth announced. There were a couple of glances in his direction, but he was largely ignored, and nobody tried to stop him.

He knew these corridors like the back of his hand. He had not always been allowed in all of the rooms, but he knew what was there. Rooms full of computers and analysis equipment, like the one he had been left to linger in previously. The rooms – close to the lab entrance, to present a falsely reassuring appearance – that were no different to a standard doctor's office, where check-ups and testing for SOLDIER candidates took place.

It was only if they were granted the honour of joining SOLDIER that they would be taken further into the labs, to the mako rooms. There was a room specifically for storage and handling, and then rooms with mako tanks and rooms with restraining tables, depending on which method the SOLDIER was going to be subject to. There were several methods of dosing a SOLDIER candidate, but mako showers and mako injections were the most common. The former had been the original way, which Sephiroth had gone through most. The injections came later – more efficient, they said, less expensive than mako tanks. Sephiroth had had plenty of those, too. He had been the test subject for their development, after all.

Sephiroth walked on without stopping to look into those rooms.

Furthest away were the rooms known as 'storage'. It was where the Science Department held their miscellany of monsters and experiments.

Sephiroth typed in the access code without even looking at the keypad.

He was not meant to know the access code, of course. But he had discovered it at eight years old, and it had been a matter of pride to his younger self to always know what it was, even when the scientists constantly changed it on him. He reasoned that continuing to know it now was simply a force of habit.

He certainly didn't visit the area as much as he used to. To a child, with nothing better to do than either undergo testing or train in the VR simulator, the cacophony of wildlife in the storage rooms was a gift. It was the only thing of any interest in the entire Science Department. Sephiroth had spent fascinated hours watching the monsters there; Kalm Fangs, who eyes glowed brighter with mako the longer they stayed in captivity, cockatrices, behemoth calves (the adults were too big to fit indoors, for most of the part). There was a malboro that had been there as long as Sephiroth had; he had watched it throw a scientist across the room once, and adored it ever since. He was very pleased to see the creature still there.

Further down the corridor, a faint green light informed Sephiroth there was a mako tank in use. He hesitated; the contents of a mako tank, particularly one found this deep in the labs, was not always pleasant. But there was no harm in simply looking.

The tank was in storage area 3, a separate room that was generally used to house any overflow of mako-related equipment. Old tanks, a myriad of tubes and wiring, needles, surgical equipment. One of the tanks had been hooked up again, and there was something inside. A person.

That got Sephiroth's attention. There was a sick lurch in his stomach.

It was possible – unlikely, and of course Sephiroth was only trying to rationalise when his instincts already understood fully – that the young man could be a SOLDIER, injured to a degree that required a period of rehabilitation aided by the accelerated healing rate mako provided.

Sephiroth did not recognise him. The young man was shirtless and barefoot, but wore trousers identical to the infantry uniform. He was relatively small in stature, but lean and with enough muscle definition to be in line with the suggestion of a military lifestyle. Blond hair drifted almost upright in the subtle currents of swirling mako. There were needles embedded in the crook of both elbows, though what the IV lines were feeding him Sephiroth could only guess. He didn't wear his dog-tags, but there was a hospital wristband on his left arm.

Sephiroth had hoped for a name, an identifying rank or unit, perhaps. He leaned in to get a better look, but the only thing the tag read was ' _Specimen C_ '.

* * *

Sephiroth stared up at the dull grey plaster, ignoring the technicians that bustled around him. There was a needle in his arm, followed by a second, but Sephiroth hadn't felt them as more than a passing annoyance for a long time.

"Who is the man in storage area three?" Sephiroth asked, schooling his voice to sound about as interested as he was in analysing the cracks in the ceiling.

Hojo took a vial of blood from one of the technicians, scribbling a note on his clipboard and frowning. He was usually frowning. "Who?"

"In the mako tank."

Hojo made a noise of exasperation. Sephiroth had been reprimanded often as a child; no _questions_. A dismissive hand was waved. "Nobody."

"Is he a SOLDIER?" Sephiroth already knew the answer to that one.

"What does it matter to you?" Hojo's tone was clipped. Sephiroth was in dangerous territory.

The next needle in his arm stabbed a little harder, enough to make him wince.

"I was not informed of his absence. If he is a SOLDIER, this oversight can only be the result of a breakdown in communication from my subordinates, and must be addressed."

Hojo's eyes lingered in suspicion. Eventually satisfied with Sephiroth's impassiveness, he turned away. "The boy is no SOLDIER, and no concern of yours. There was an accident in a reactor. He suffered severe mako poisoning. The infirmary could do nothing for him, so he was sent here."

"Does it not seem counter-intuitive to expose him to even more mako if there is any hope for him to recover?"

"Don't be smart with me, boy," Hojo snapped. "His body is dependant on it; a form of mako addiction. Sudden withdrawal would kill him as surely as too high a dose." The clipboard was placed carefully to one side. "If you have time for such tiresome questions, I assume you have time for further testing. We will begin with a sample of cerebral spinal fluid…"

* * *

Sephiroth hadn't meant to return to storage area 3, especially not so soon after alerting Hojo to his interest. Yet he found his feet taking him in that direction without conscious decision.

He stood in front of the mako tank, the sickly green glow the only illumination in the room.

"Who are you?" Sephiroth asked.

He did not expect an answer, and the young man – Specimen C – did not give one. He did not appear to have moved in the slightest in the time between Sephiroth's lab visits.

A short moment of hesitation, then Sephiroth made his decision. He turned from the tank and began examining the rest of the room. Hojo was meticulous with his notes; Specimen C would have a file somewhere. Perhaps it was too much to hope for it to be in the immediate vicinity, but there was no harm in looking.

"Was there really an accident?" Sephiroth mused aloud. All he had found so far were dusty old reams of paper for printing read-outs of various machines, most out-dated now. A few piles of basic forms for SOLDIER candidates, all unused. A biro with a chewed end, loose in the back of a drawer.

He returned to stand in front of the mako tank; he would have no luck here. But he would take all the clues he could get. Namely, Specimen C appeared to be wearing infantry blues. It wouldn't be hard to verify. He could get access to the infantry reports – accidents involving a mako reactor were few and far between, it should be easy enough to isolate the relevant incident. All he needed to look for was an infantryman suffering mako poisoning as a result, with a name beginning with the letter C.

(Hojo's naming process was entirely uninventive, Sephiroth knew. He himself had been known as Specimen S for a large portion of his life, until he proved himself worthy of his actual name.)

Sephiroth's eyes lingered on the young man's face; high cheekbones, full lips. Pretty, for a man. He memorised the features, in case they were required to pick out his identity from any photographic material in the infantry records.

"How long have you been here?"

Specimen C did not respond.

"I shall start with the archives for the last month," Sephiroth decided.

* * *

"Hojo is lying, isn't he?" Sephiroth asked the unresponsive Specimen C. "There are no records of mako poisoning within the last year that fit your details."

Specimen C no longer had the IV attached to him. It was a cold comfort. They had not just left him here to rot entirely… but being subject to the Science Department's attention was not necessarily the better option of the two.

"But I cannot guarantee the infantry records are correct. They may hide such accidents to avoid staining their reputation." Sephiroth snorted. "As if they had any to protect in the first place."

Sephiroth took up pacing. The small space in front of the mako tank was woefully inadequate for the length of his strides.

"But if Hojo is correct in your requirement for mako – that a sudden withdrawal would damage your health – then I cannot simply take you from here."

That was one reason, in any case. The other was that the recuperations could be severe, for both of them. Sephiroth understood that, the knowledge like ice in his stomach.

He had attempted a foolish, futile rescue once, in his youth. He had grown too attached to a guard hound pup. He had got it out of the labs, and Sephiroth had been so proud of himself. But there had been nowhere for the two of them to go; Sephiroth was only a child, after all, and still lived in the labs himself.

(He had his own room, they said, but it was only a refurbished cell.)

Hojo dissected the pup while Sephiroth was forced to watch. He liked to imagine it died quickly.

Sephiroth's own testing schedule became severe for a long while after that, and needlessly painful. He did not often cry, even as a child, but several nights were enough to bring him to tears once out of Hojo's sight.

He did not think Hojo would have any qualms in doing the same to a human rescued from the labs. Sephiroth was too valuable for them to damage permanently; Specimen C was disposable. Doubly so, as he seemed to have no name and no existence that Sephiroth could discover. No one had reported him missing or noticed his absence.

Sephiroth gingerly brushed his fingertips against the glass of the mako tank. "I understand, what it is like to be alone. It is… unpleasant. I will do what I can for you, but I can promise nothing more than to return."

Sephiroth hesitated, nodded, then turned to leave.

He did not see Specimen C's head tilt just slightly, almost as if attempting to nod an acknowledgement.

* * *

Sephiroth was playing a dangerous game, visiting Specimen C so often. He didn't even have any appointments of his own. He could fool the technicians – he was there for testing so often that they were entirely used to his presence and thought nothing of him roaming the corridors at any time of day.

Hojo was a different matter; he personally oversaw all the the testing and enhancements Sephiroth underwent. If Hojo caught sight of him, or even just heard about his presence from the other lab assistants, he would know immediately that Sephiroth was there for purposes of his own.

So he was careful with his timing, avoiding as many people as he could.

Safe in the confines of storage area 3, he would sit on the floor and proceed to update Specimen C on his progress. This part of the conversation was particularly short-lived. But he had started to talk about other things as well. Sephiroth was not the greatest conversationalist, and he knew it. Specimen C, however, did not mind when Sephiroth paused for long periods of time, nothing more to say on a particular subject. He did not care if Sephiroth was unable to correctly read social cues, or used colloquial phrases in the wrong places.

Specimen C had even begun to respond, in kind. Perhaps Sephiroth was just imagining it. But he thought Specimen C straightened up when Sephiroth began to speak. His head tilted forward, like he was trying to listen. His fingers twitched.

Sephiroth pressed his hand to the glass in a farewell gesture. Specimen C's arm began to raise; not far, but it almost looked like an attempt to reciprocate.

"You're still in there somewhere, aren't you?" Sephiroth said.

* * *

Sephiroth could read the mood of the lab very well. It had been a skill essential to survival for as long as he could remember. Strange, how he could evaluate the atmosphere of the entire Science Department with uncanny accuracy, yet could completely fail to put a similar skill into practice with friends and colleagues.

There was a buzz of excitement. It was tinged with satisfaction; an experiment completed successfully, then. If it had been something important planned for Sephiroth, there would be nervousness alongside the excitement.

Something had already happened, something a little more important than the everyday monsters and projects they worked on.

Sephiroth slid into a doorway, melting into the shadows as two technicians walked past. He didn't want to be noticed today, not if his suspicions were correct. He hurried to storage area 3 with more haste than he could wave away if he was seen.

The mako tank was still active, and Specimen C inside. The relief was short-lived.

The young man had scars; wounds, really. A great jagged thing down the centre of his chest and stomach. There were deep red pin-pricks that indicated where needles – large ones – had been inserted. The fact that none of these had healed yet suggested they were very, very recent.

"I'm sorry," Sephiroth murmured. He had suspected – known, really, in the back of his mind – that Specimen C was not simply there to heal or be rehabilitated from mako poisoning.

He was weak, floating limply in the tank, exhausted and probably still in pain. His body didn't twitch in response to Sephiroth's presence, as it had so often started to.

Instead, Sephiroth felt it.

There was the burn of the mako. Skin and muscle splitting apart so easily beneath a surgical blade; agony, for a moment, but there was so much of it that blurred into one senseless, crushing pain. Suffocating and trapped, in a body that was nothing more than a dead weight.

And the Lifestream in his head, worst of all. A glimpse of the full scope of life on the Planet; a billion humans, plants, animals, everything; the depths of their dreams and thoughts and suffering, an utter maelstrom of existence. What was one human when faced with the scale of that? A drop in the ocean. Worthless.

Specimen C had lost himself beneath the weight of the world. Was he still there at all?

Sephiroth could not stay to find out. He had felt the same pain as Specimen C before; the physical pain, at any rate. But experiencing it as another…

Sephiroth lurched from the room, pale and with hands trembling. He made it all the way back to his apartment before throwing up.

* * *

He did not visit Specimen C again for several weeks.

The guilt gnawed at him. Specimen C was no guard hound pup to be rescued on a whim. He was a human being. Did he have a family, somewhere? Friends? Hopes and dreams? He had been part of the infantry, once.

It was possible he had simply been dressed in the infantry uniform by staff in the Science Department if that was what they had available at the time, but Sephiroth held firm to the idea of Specimen C having been an infantryman originally. It was the only real clue he had for his identity.

And Sephiroth was the only one who knew he was there. Specimen C was his responsibility, and he could not let a human suffer in that gods-forsaken hellhole any longer.

Yet that was exactly what he was allowing to happen.

(There was a bitter voice in the back Sephiroth's mind. 'No one ever cared enough to get _you_ out,' it said.)

He was quiet the next time he visited the labs for his regularly scheduled mako dosing.

"You seem subdued today," Hojo commented, with something that may have been a snort of derision. Sephiroth was not supposed to experience emotions; to do so was weakness. To allow Hojo to notice was utter foolishness. "Are you coming down with something?"

"I doubt it, Professor. I am immune to all known infectious diseases."

Hojo regarded Sephiroth with a cold smile. "But you are not immune to clouded judgement. I would be careful if I were you, boy. The lives of ordinary humans are so fleeting; it would be inadvisable to get attached. Especially to anyone you may meet _here_."

"…I understand."

Yes, Sephiroth understood, a chill running down his spine.

There was no doubt in his mind; Hojo knew that Sephiroth was aware of Specimen C, and had visited often enough to become distracted by thoughts of his wellbeing. He could not determine if the 'advice' was a reprimand or a threat.

Sephiroth left the labs after his visit, then circled round and re-entered through a less used route. It was vital this time he was not seen at all. They were running out of time, or so it felt.

Sephiroth could sense Cloud's presence, even before he entered the room. He breathed in deep and stepped inside, keeping his defences up.

"What did they do?" Sephiroth asked softly, gaze falling on the comatose young blond.

Specimen C had healed entirely; only the faintest trace of a pink line remained down the centre of his chest. That was no surprise. Mako's healing ability, when applied correctly, was well-documented. (In actuality, mako only accelerated growth. That could be growth of new muscle and skin to knit a wound together… or the growth of mutations, if uncontrolled.)

But Sephiroth could _feel_ him. He didn't understand how; it was like a secondary awareness infringing at the edges of his own. It made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He didn't like it, but Specimen C was not the one to blame for whatever had caused the change.

What had Hojo done to him?

Specimen C's awareness shifted, ever so slightly, like rolling over in a deep sleep. He was far away, but the sensation was similar to the eyes that stared at Sephiroth's back, only to skitter away when he turned to look at them.

"I'm here," Sephiroth said.

Specimen C knew. Not consciously, but some of the darkness abated. It had been so dark. Dark and lonely, so lonely, abandoned and left to rot.

Sephiroth pushed the sensation away. "If you are anywhere in there, listen. I want to get you out of here." Feeling foolish, he attempted to reach out to Specimen C the same way he could sense the young man's own mind. He tried to let him feel the sensation of freedom, of peace.

Ironic, since Sephiroth was not particularly familiar with either himself.

But Specimen C responded. The tumult in his mind stilled, and all of his awareness turned to Sephiroth.

 _You came back._

The rush of emotion was dizzying. Relief, desperation, but anger too. He'd been so alone, so hurt, the ache running so deep that he could barely breathe–

"Stop!" Sephiroth hissed. "Whatever you are doing, stop. It is… difficult to concentrate."

Specimen C's presence pulled away, wary of Sephiroth's sharp tone.

"Can you wake up, if I get you out of the tank?"

There was no real response to that. The only sensation Sephiroth could read in Specimen C was vague and confused, like he no longer understood the concept of waking up. He had lost all awareness of anything outside his own mind.

Was it even worth making a rescue attempt? It seemed unlikely the young man would ever recover. But he was clearly aware of what was happening, on some level; it would be cruel to leave him. There had been enough suffering in this place already.

"Very well," Sephiroth said. He was talking to himself more than Specimen C. "I will have to carry you to safety myself. There is a specimen transport elevator we can take to the next floor."

While he spoke, Sephiroth methodically began the shut-down protocol for the tank. He had witnessed the scientists doing so enough times to be familiar with the process.

"Hojo will inevitably come looking for you; it is not safe for you to remain here. It would be best to transfer you to an independent hospital for further care, as far away from Midgar as can be managed. We will stop only long enough for a short rest and to gather supplies. I will also need to investigate transport options, as ShinRa run transport will not be a viable option unless we wish to alert the Science Department of both our location and destination."

There was a low hiss as the pressure released. The glass screen of the tank slid back, and Specimen C slumped forward, utterly limp and unresponsive.

The presence in the back of Sephiroth's mind shuddered. It appeared to sigh, then melted away.

For a moment Sephiroth cursed himself, thinking Specimen C was gone entirely. Hojo had said an abrupt withdrawal from mako could be disastrous–

But, no. It was much fainter now, but Sephiroth could still sense Specimen C. He was simply unconscious, if an awareness could also be considered unconscious in addition to the physical form.

If Specimen C did die, Sephiroth thought darkly, at least he would be free from the torturous half-life Hojo had left him to rot in.

He gathered the comatose blond into his arms. Back straight and head held high, he walked purposefully down the corridor to the transport lift and out of the labs.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I've just realised... I've picked a _really awful_ time to start posting this. Because it's pretty much the end of semester at uni, which means all the assignments are due and exams start in two weeks. Yaaaaay. /sarcasm

But, yeah, I might not be able to get to work on chapter three for a while. orz

I will try and make sure something happens next time, instead of just spending another whole chapter in Sephiroth's head. (Although the first part of chapter three is already still like that. Damnit, Seph. Stop overthinking everything.) Zack will be back with a bigger role later on.

* * *

The journey was excruciating. There were too many unknown factors, too much out of Sephiroth's control. He didn't like it.

On this occasion, at least, he was thankful for Hojo's absurd working hours. It was normally a trial to go through an entire day, inevitably staying in the office late due to his workload, only to be summoned to the labs with no respite. But it was that exact situation that meant the corridors – at least outside of the science department – remained deserted. The rest of ShinRa's populace had homes and families to return to.

This was little reassurance. It was unlikely he would run into any other staff at a time approaching eleven at night, but it was not an impossibility. Security still patrolled, and he was not the only one to work outside of office hours. There would be cameras on them.

Sephiroth could, most likely, get away with a cold glance and brusque nod, should anyone spot him at this point. Provided they were not members of the science department, they were not likely to question him. They would probably come to their own conclusions about why Sephiroth was carrying an unconscious, shirtless young man, but so be it.

That advantage would be lost the moment Specimen C was discovered missing. Hojo was aware that Sephiroth had developed an attachment to the young man; it would be easy for anyone to put the pieces together.

Their success hinged entirely on no one checking Specimen C's mako tank. In other words, the outcome was not within Sephiroth's control. He was helpless in that regard.

It was a feeling he despised.

He stood entirely still in the elevator as it dropped them further and further away from the science department, unblinking and barely breathing, too lost in thought for such menial requirements. He mentally reviewed their chances and their options.

Starting with the chance of discovery. The majority of the science department employees left by eight p.m. Only Hojo and a handful of skeleton staff remained at this time of night. The staff were unlikely to check the storage area where Specimen C had been located – it was out of the way, and rarely used. Hojo was his concern.

There was nothing he could to prevent or predict Hojo's actions. He would work under the assumption they were not discovered.

But what if they were? Sephiroth considered it for a moment – a backup plan was essential. It would get messy, and result in Sephiroth being forced to flee with insufficient preparation. He would manage, if necessary. However, Specimen C…

If it came to their capture, Sephiroth would kill Specimen C first. He knew what fate awaited him in the labs, and Sephiroth's interference would only make Specimen C's suffering all the worse. A quick death would be mercy for him.

He hoped it did not come to that.

Their options were better should Hojo not discover them. Assuming the professor left the labs without checking Specimen C's tank, his absence would not be noticed until the next day. They would have the entire night as a head start; a good advantage.

Sephiroth made a split-second decision. It was a risk to return to his own quarters, but additional preparation would increase their chances of remaining undetected further in the future. He would stick to his original plan and return there first.

He wasn't aware his hands were trembling slightly until he reached out his cardkey to left himself in.

Sephiroth laid Specimen C's inert form on the couch, lingering a moment above him. He was too pale; sickly pale, almost a faint green sheen to his skin. Breathing and pulse were both slow, each breath barely a shallow rasp, but perhaps he should be thankful they were there at all. The blond spikes of Specimen C's hair were clumped and stuck together with half-dried mako.

Sephiroth brushed the bangs out of the young man's face. No response. He did not expect one.

Snapping back to attention, Sephiroth analysed the room.

Supplies. Carrying too much would be a hindrance – especially as he would also have to carry Specimen C – but Sephiroth did not like to be unprepared. A small bag of essentials, then. Anything else they required could be bought, although that also possessed a risk of their discovery.

He collected a small pack from beneath the bed and began preparations.

Cash – using credit would leave a trail. One spare set of civilian clothes to pack, one to change in to immediately. He dug out the smallest set of clothing he possessed for Specimen C – the young man would be dwarfed even in those, but it was better than him remaining shirtless and in his mako-soaked infantry blues. Food and water, enough for two days. Map. Materia – Sleep and Confuse were not ones Sephiroth regularly used, but if he wished to leave undetected and without bloodshed, they would give the best advantage. He equipped those to his bracer and put his normal materia into the pack. His PHS–

Sephiroth paused. He had no need to take his PHS. Whilst access to information while on the move may come in handy, it was certainly not worth the risk of being traceable, and there was no one left he cared to communicate with anyway.

Perhaps that wasn't quite true. Those he had once considered friends – Angeal, Genesis, and even Lazard, to an extent – had already abandoned ShinRa. _Abandoned you_ , that bitter voice thought. The only one who remained was Zack.

First Class SOLDIER, Zack Fair. He should not be surprised at Sephiroth's departure. Sephiroth had told him as much, months ago: "Depending on what happens, I may abandon ShinRa." The impetus was not what he had expected, and the decision made more abruptly than he was perhaps comfortable with, but nonetheless, it had been a long time coming.

Sephiroth was abandoning ShinRa. He was— a sharp breath. No. There was no time to consider that, nor it's implications. The enormity of it, of turning his back on everything he had ever known, threatened to be overwhelming.

Simplify it. He was leaving for the sake of Specimen C; a life saved instead of taken, for once.

But what to do about Fair? Would he feel the same at Sephiroth's desertion as Sephiroth had felt when Genesis and Angeal had left? Hurt. Betrayed.

Against his better judgement, Sephiroth snapped open the PHS.

' _I am leaving ShinRa now. I appreciate the friendship you have extended during our time working together_.' Sephiroth paused his typing, eyeing the message blinking on his screen. He was never good at this.

' _Thank you, Zack_.'

It was not much. But it was better than leaving without a word.

Send message.

He memorised Zack's number, then closed the PHS and crushed it in his hand. That was enough of that. Time was of the essence; emotional tangles could be dealt with later. Or, as all too often became Sephiroth's method, never.

Bag packed, clothes changed, and hair pulled back into a ponytail, Sephiroth returned to the living room. He snapped his mind back into tactical mode.

They needed a destination. Sephiroth immediately narrowed it down to two options; Mideel, or Cosmo Canyon.

Mideel was a point where the Lifestream occasionally came to the surface, resulting in a higher than normal incidence of mako poisonings and related illnesses. The clinic there thus specialised in such things. ShinRa ties existed, but were relatively minimal.

Cosmo Canyon did not specialise in mako-related illnesses, but did have a wider understanding of the Lifestream and a focus on functional medicine. They were also anti-ShinRa; less of an advantage for Sephiroth himself, but they were likely to offer protection for Specimen C, at least.

Both were off-continent. The only way to get off-continent was via Junon. Heavy ShinRa presence made the area a risk, but it was the same risk Sephiroth faced while remaining in the building. Provided the alarm had not yet been raised, very few would question Sephiroth, although it would be preferential if they were not spotted at all.

(He folded up his uniform coat and packed that as well, in case it was necessary for him to act in his former military position.)

They needed to get to Junon. Ideally before the morning.

ShinRa-owned transport was out; that could be tracked. Public transport was too slow, and not running at this time of night regardless. That left private transportation. Sephiroth did not own a vehicle himself – ShinRa had always provided anything he needed – and he did not care to put his and Specimen C's fates in the hands of a stranger. Which left one option.

Sephiroth had never hot-wired a car before, but he was a quick learner. He booted up his laptop and began a search on the technique.

He had just about finished memorising as much information as he could when he felt Specimen C stir. Felt, rather than noticed, because physically Specimen C remained as still as the dead. But that awareness, that presence returned, in gradual, fragmented increments.

He was in the dark, dream-like. Specimen C felt the difference. The Lifestream had felt like a waterfall, an avalanche of the enormity of existence, of things a human mind could never grasp and was never meant to know. He had been drowning in it, forced deeper and deeper by the weight of it pounding down on him. Breathing it in when he couldn't hold his strength any longer, until it permeated every cell in his body.

The waterfall was gone, but he was still underwater, battered and lost and so, so deep. There was no glimmer of light down here. But he could feel the currents, the eddying and swirling of energy. He was formless, and it swept around him. He couldn't move, he was nothing–

Sephiroth jerked away abruptly, not realising he had turned to and starting leaning in towards Specimen C. Whatever connection now existed between them he would have to be careful with. It would do no good to anyone if Sephiroth were to become lost in Specimen C's mind as well.

"Can you hear me?" he asked, with a gentle touch to Specimen C's forearm.

It was fascinating, disconcerting, to see his actions through Specimen C's mind. They were nothing but ripples, a current of energy buffeting against Specimen C's awareness. But he felt the movement. The ripples like soundwaves, slowly, painstakingly, formed to an understanding.

 _Hear_.

Sephiroth let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. Specimen C was still very much alive, and still aware at some level. Removing him from the mako tank had not been as disastrous as Hojo had implied. As least, not yet. The long term implications for Specimen C's survival, however…

"We are going to get you help," Sephiroth told him. "I will need to carry you again, until you awaken. Do not be alarmed."

 _Here_.

Sephiroth did not understand. He felt the shift in the current Specimen C was immersed in, a swirl of energy— a life. The eddies, the pockets of energy he was sensing. They were lifeforms. Specimen C could feel their presence in the Lifestream. And one was reaching out with tendrils of energy. Thinking of them, coming for them.

Sephiroth's mouth set into a hard line. "We need to leave."

He took the clothes he had gathered for Specimen C and dressed him with clinical efficiency, letting the urgency distract him from any awkwardness he might have felt at having the young man momentarily naked. A shower would have been better, to wash the mako off him entirely, but there hadn't been time for that originally, and there certainly wasn't now.

Sephiroth threw the pack over his shoulders and picked Specimen C up again, carrying him bridal style.

"Where are they?" he asked.

Specimen C was disorientated. He had lost all sense of physical sensation or direction, drifting aimlessly.

"Steady," Sephiroth murmured.

He tried to focus with Specimen C, drawing both of their attentions to that agitated current of energy. Specimen C's mindscape was nebulous, constantly shifting, but if Sephiroth grounded himself in the outside world, while letting Specimen C's sixth sense in…

Below. The information was hardly reliable, but it felt like they were below them; a lower floor, then. Sephiroth dearly hoped that was the case – the Science Department was on the 67th and 68th floors, above them, so it was unlikely to be Hojo approaching from below.

Nonetheless, he didn't wish to encounter anyone, and it was an unnecessary risk to take the elevator if it were in use already. The stairs, then.

Sephiroth was a SOLDIER, and Specimen C worryingly light, so it was little trouble to carry him down. Gravity was on their side as well. Sephiroth took the stairs a whole flight at a time.

The other benefit of the stairs was that they did not lead into the main lobby, once they reached the ground floor, but also gave access to a lesser used side entrance to the building.

Sephiroth had blocked out Specimen C's strange mental link while he focused on their descent. It was only after he had stepped outside that he felt Specimen C's surge of anxiety, like tossing uneasily during a bad dream.

 _Here._

Sephiroth froze, senses on high alert. There were footsteps pounding towards them - too late to try to duck from view.

"Sephiroth!" a voice yelled, and then Zack Fair burst into view. He was frowning, uncharacteristically, brows furrowed with concern. Sephiroth turned to face his colleague as Zack slowed to a halt.

"Do not stop me, Fair."

"Sephiroth, what–" Zack took a gasp of air, out of breath. He'd sprinted the entire way outside to catch up to them after receiving Sephiroth's message and discovering the man was already missing from his apartment. "I'm not, hah, gonna stop you. But talk to me, man. What's–"

Zack's expression suddenly twisted, as though he had been abruptly sucker-punched in the gut. " _Cloud?!_ "

Sephiroth followed Zack's stricken gaze. He had noticed the comatose blond Sephiroth carried. He knew him. All that time spent trying to find out the man's identity, and Zack _knew_ him?

Specimen C. Cloud.

"Tell me what's going on, Sephiroth." Zack's voice was like steel now.

"There is no time."

"I don't give a shit! That's– that's Cloud. He's my friend, he vanished like six months ago – they said he'd quit and gone back home but I didn't believe it, not Cloud, he's tough as fucking nails – what's wrong with him, _tell me what's going on_."

Sephiroth's expression was grim. He did not have time for this – perhaps there was a good reason Genesis and Angeal had deserted without a word.

"Hojo," he said. That was all the explanation he could give to Zack, but from the way the colour drained from the other SOLDIER's face, it was explanation enough.

"I will do my best to help him. If you are his friend – if you are mine – you will claim no knowledge of having seen us. Go home, Zack."

"Let me help you," Zack insisted.

"Stay here. If they come after me, delay them."

"I'm not just going to let you–"

"I'm not giving you a choice, Fair!"

Sephiroth had not meant to bark the order quite so harshly. Zack wore his heart on his sleeve, and the confusion and betrayal he felt was clear to see. Sephiroth couldn't-– Zack was the only friend he had left, he did not wish to hurt him. This couldn't continue.

"Zack… I can offer you nothing more than my apologies right now. I will contact you if I can."

He cast the Sleep spell, and Zack slumped to the floor. Sephiroth spared several of his precious moments place Specimen C down and pick up Zack instead, pulling him back into the mostly unused stairwell entrance to the side of the building. The cold would not bother a SOLDIER, but nonetheless, Sephiroth was not about to leave his comrade unconscious and prone outdoors. He made him as comfortable as could be managed, tucked in an out of the way corner behind the stairwell.

"I am sorry," he said quietly, then turned his back on Zack.

There would be time for regrets later.

He picked up Specimen C – no, Cloud, his name was Cloud – and continued out into the city. He was heading to Sector 8. It was one of the more affluent areas, and therefore more likely for him to find a suitable vehicle in good repair, as well as being easily accessible by foot. The trains did not run very often at this time of night, and would be absolutely senseless to waste time waiting at a station for one.

Sephiroth pulled a cap from his pack, twisting his hair up and cramming it underneath. He pulled the brim down over his face. He adjusted Specimen C – _Cloud_ – so that the young man was at his side, half draped over his shoulder, Sephiroth's arm around his waist. Hopefully, in the entertainment district and late at night, it would simply be assumed he had had too much to drink.

While stealth may not have been his primary method of engagement, Sephiroth was still adept enough at it. Despite his size and distinctive hair, he had learned the art of blending in to a crowd. Perhaps he had Tseng to thank for that, until his promotion in the Turks and Sephiroth's involvement in the Wutai war had weakened their ties.

He headed down Loveless Avenue, then off it again. He swayed and stumbled slightly whenever they passed groups of revellers. It the shadow of an alley entrance, he spotted a sturdy-looking four wheel drive vehicle. Perfect.

Attempting to hot wire the car was not as successful as he had hoped. He managed to set the car alarm off, the blaring noise lasting a good half a minute before he found the responsible security system and ripped it out by hand. Fortunately, the only response was a round of boos and shouts from the bar around the corner, protesting at the annoyance.

He may also have resorted to accidentally pulling one of the doors off to get in.

(…Well. No matter. He had experienced several variations of military vehicles with open sides or rears before, it would not be any major hindrance.)

Sephiroth huffed under his breath. This was the work of the Turks, not a SOLDIER. Still, once inside, his memory and the tutorials of dubious legality that he had discovered served him well. He got the car running.

With Cloud buckled into the front seat and pack thrown into the back, Sephiroth slammed his foot down and began the winding journey out of the city and into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

The desolate landscape flashed by in a dimly-lit haze.

Sephiroth had taken the road south from the city. It was another gamble, but one he had anticipated making all along.

There was only one major route to Junon, isolated by the mountain range as it was. The tunnel through the mountains was located past the marshes; inefficient, as the highway had to head east through the Kalm Pass before curving back on itself to get there.

A more direct route existed, through the mountains immediately to the south, but this was under ShinRa military control. Sephiroth knew it well. It was regularly used for convoys and supply trains.

However, he also knew the pass was gated and guarded at all times, and in constant communication with the military bases at both ShinRa and Junon. Sephiroth could certainly talk them into letting him through – even if Specimen C had been reported as missing, it was doubtful anyone would be willing to confirm Sephiroth as being AWOL this early on – but that information would inevitably make its way back. He would rather ensure their destination remained unknown. They would be far more difficult to trace if it wasn't even certain which continent they were on.

There was a second route. It had been in disuse for over a decade; Sephiroth only knew of it as he'd done several training exercises in the area in his teens. Even while it had been in use, the road was fairly treacherous. It wound steeply up over the mountains, zigzagging up between two of the lower peaks. In winters, the pass would become completely snowed under. Even after it thawed, the road was often left damaged and in disrepair. It was unlikely to be in a good state after ten years without maintenance.

But it would reduce the journey time from eleven hours to five. Four at the speed Sephiroth was driving. That put their ETA into Junon at approximately 0400 hours, provided there were no complications.

Sephiroth only hoped the vehicle he had borrowed was up for the task.

The road through the wastelands was straight as an arrow, the mountain range looming as a foreboding shadow in the distance ahead. Sephiroth kept the headlights dimmed – a compromise between visibility and remaining undetected if they should encounter any vehicles on the road ahead. Sephiroth's enhanced vision would spot their lights before they noticed his.

He would have welcomed such a distraction. But there was no one else around for miles; the journey was accompanied by nothing but the empty darkness and Sephiroth's own thoughts.

Too many thoughts. He wasn't certain he had taken the correct course of action.

There was a heaviness in the pit of his stomach, an unpleasant tightness in his chest. The steering wheel creaked alarmingly when he gripped it a little too tight.

This whole thing was folly. Where exactly was he hoping to go, once he had ensured Cloud's safety? What did he do without ShinRa? Was he supposed to find somewhere to live, get a job, settle down? Sephiroth snorted to himself. He didn't exactly have any suitable work experience in anything apart from murder.

What could he possibly do? He was a weapon. That was all he had ever been raised to do, all he had ever known. No matter how much Zack claimed otherwise, it was the only truth Sephiroth understood.

He wished he had perhaps let Zack come along. Zack was good at making him feel human.

But, no. It was too late for that now.

A weapon was worthless when not at war. The war was long over, but at least ShinRa provided enough missions and busywork that Sephiroth could still be useful. Without that, what was he?

ShinRa was corrupt, that much was blatantly obvious. A den of monsters. There were times he could barely stand to be in such a toxic place. He had planned to leave so many times, but there was that same fear holding him back.

The world beyond was vast, unfamiliar and incomprehensible. Maybe it was better to remain with the enemy he knew.

He would not abandon Cloud. He did not regret taking him from the labs – there were very few instances when Sephiroth felt he truly understood 'the right thing to do', but this time he was certain. But once Cloud was safe. What then?

The thought curled insidiously through his mind. There was no reason he couldn't go back. As long as Cloud was secure and his location remained unknown to ShinRa… Sephiroth would be punished, certainly, but it would be no worse that the torture he had already survived. Hojo hated when Sephiroth demonstrated any degree of free will; there would be a smug satisfaction in knowing he had acted against Hojo's wishes, and he regretted he wouldn't see the expression on his face.

Sephiroth was too important, near untouchable. Nothing they could do to reprimand him for going AWOL would be a true deterrent.

But could he truly to continue to live like that? He was tired. Not physically, but… his soul, he supposed, if such a thing existed for him. If he was a weapon, perhaps an accurate analogy would be to say he was growing dulled. He had seen comrades fall, his friends' betrayal, taken too many lives; each loss increased the weight on his shoulders. Not that he would ever acknowledge he felt such a thing. Weakness was not allowed.

How ironic it was. He played chess with the lives of others, determining their fate with practiced ease – who would he send into battle, which enemies he killed. Yet couldn't take his own fate into his hands. He couldn't make that choice for himself.

Sephiroth released a slow, heavy breath. He needed to remind himself to loosen his grip again – they would be going nowhere if he broke the steering wheel.

None of it mattered. He needed to concentrate on getting Cloud the medical attention his condition required. Anything else could wait.

He knew he was pushing his problems away again, but that was the only method Sephiroth knew for dealing with them. Besides, they were approaching the foot of the mountain range, and he needed to focus.

He nearly missed the turning in the dark. They skidded round in and inelegant three point turn and headed up the trail. Even the approach had deteriorated into disrepair. Sephiroth was forced to slow their pace, or else risk damaging either the vehicle or Cloud with the severity of the bumps and potholes they encountered.

"I hope you do not get carsick," Sephiroth murmured humourlessly to the comatose blond in his passenger seat.

He was probably imagining it. But Sephiroth got the feeling that if Cloud had been able to respond, he would have got a hard glare and a groan for the comment.

There was a barrier across the road, marking the start of the mountain pass. During winter the road was closed, made impassable by the snowfall. The barrier was supposed to be lifted once the road was open for use again, but it seemed it had been left permanently closed for several years at least.

Sephiroth slowed them to a halt and got out of the jeep.

The amount of rust on the heavy chain keeping the barrier closed certainly supported that theory. There was a simple padlock, but that too was so old and worn that it most likely wouldn't work even if they had had the key for it.

Sephiroth inspected the chain. It was wider than his wrists; thick enough that even his enhanced strength would have difficulty in breaking it. However, the rust would make it brittle. If he used that to his advantage…

It still took a fair amount of effort, and more time than Sephiroth would have liked, but he was able to pull the links apart.

His momentary satisfaction at being able to move forward again was short-lived. He had been right about the state of the road. Although there were few snowbanks left, and certainly none large enough to impede them, the pass was so cracked and potholed that he was forced to move at a crawl. There appeared to have been several landslides along the route, which, given how narrow the road was, left no choice but to try to drive over the debris. Even at a snail's pace, the suspension groaned alarmingly and the underside of the jeep was constantly being scraped and battered.

Breathe. Focus. Treat it as a mission, requiring careful tactical planning of each painstaking movement.

It took three hours of constant concentration, and by the time they made it to the other side of the mountains, both Sephiroth and the vehicle were exhausted and demoralised.

There was no time to rest. Sephiroth had faced worse sleep deprivation and worse conditions. He would soldier on as always.

The journey final leg of the journey was another stretch of straight, well-kept road as they rejoined the military route. But even so, the battered jeep was not up for going anywhere above the speed limit, much to Sephiroth's ire.

He felt his skin prickle like a sixth sense. Sephiroth glanced over at Cloud – the young man was looking even more pale and sickly, if that were possible. His energy felt weak, but Sephiroth could sense it. Cloud was reaching out for him, like the smallest, gentlest brush of his fingers against the back of Sephiroth's hand in encouragement. He was trying to do more. He was trying to give some of his energy to Sephiroth, but he had so little to give…

Sephiroth mirrored the action physically, touching Cloud's hand. "Thank you, Cloud."

Cloud's presence faded back, exhausted from even that small attempt at interaction.

Sephiroth continued to stare at him for a moment longer. He knew Cloud meant no harm, but the connection between them… it unnerved him. Why could Sephiroth sense him? What had Hojo done that could possibly have had such an effect? What had Cloud become?

The same questions echoed in Cloud's mind. He was afraid as well, in as much as he understood of what was going on.

"We will figure it out," Sephiroth reassured him. He knew Cloud would sense the intention of his words, if nothing else.

They limped into Junon at close to 0530. Sephiroth took the lower road into the old fishing village, rather than risk the main roads into the ShinRa-controlled compound. Avoiding the area entirely was impossible, unfortunately, as all intercontinental transport left from either the docks or airfield. But Sephiroth knew his way around the Junon base well enough; he would sneak them in that way.

He abandoned the jeep on the outskirts of town. He had intended to return the borrowed vehicle, but the journey had certainly not been a smooth one. The damage was rather more obvious now, with the first rays of dawn beginning to light the sky. Sephiroth glanced beneath the vehicle, to his regret. It was a miracle they had managed to complete their journey at all. It was unlikely the vehicle would be able to start again. That had been… unintended.

He carried Cloud the rest of the way to the other side of the village.

The elevator up into Junon proper was guarded by a pair of troopers. Sephiroth observed them for a moment; from the snippets of conversation he heard, they seemed to be discussing the benefits of charging the villagers ten gil for the use of the elevator and putting the money into their own pockets.

Sephiroth felt no qualms in casting Sleep on the two. They would be disciplined for falling asleep on the job, but he got the impression they were not shining examples of personnel anyway. Sephiroth's moral compass may have been somewhat distorted, but he understood rules. The plan they had been discussing was certainly against those.

From there, getting into the elevator unnoticed was easy.

Yet Sephiroth's anxiety rose with each level higher they passed. Military activity on the base began from 0500 hours onwards, depending on unit – they had already missed the golden hour before anyone awoke. The positive was that the base on the south side of town, where the elevator would release them, primarily housed troopers and airfield workers, who did not begin their days until 0600. The negative was that the dock workers were the ones who began at 0500. Their presence would make stowing away undetected far more difficult.

"I don't suppose you would like to repeat that ability where you seemed able to sense if other people are around?" Sephiroth said quietly. It would be unfortunate if he were to step out of the elevator and run directly into someone standing outside, after all.

Cloud gave no response. It seemed his awareness was tenuous at best.

Sephiroth sighed regretfully. The last thing he needed was more concerns, but it did seem Cloud was growing weaker. He hoped it only indicated fluctuations in Cloud's energy levels, and not a consistent downwards trend.

He froze as the elevator reached its highest point. Sephiroth's hearing was more acute than most others, but not infallible. Still, he heard no footsteps or sound of movement.

No guards. Good.

Cameras. He had cared little in Midgar – what did it matter if security was able to review the recordings at see Sephiroth leave? By that time, his disappearance would be known of anyway. But he wished to leave no hint of their passing here.

Sephiroth extracted one of the extra materia from his pack; Bolt. If he was careful with his spell… perfect. The tiniest surge of electricity, directly at the camera. Enough to short it out, without causing a loss of power anywhere else – that, he knew, would trigger an alarm.

It was a simple matter of repeating the same step for each area they passed. Sephiroth took the main thoroughfares – they seemed the safer option at this time, rather than the back corridors through the barracks where the on-duty infantry members would soon be waking.

They were stirring already, and Cloud stirred with them. He had been drifting, a soothing, silent oblivion. The currents of energy, their movement – people, and people meant pain, more pain, more than Cloud could–

"Shh," Sephiroth attempted. It was not effective at soothing Cloud, his suffocating anxiousness starting to drag Sephiroth in as well. He grit his teeth. "Just a little further, Cloud."

Another corner, another camera. Just a little further.

Sephiroth cast the Bolt spell again. He felt it the second it happened – too strong. Fuck. He didn't know how it had happened– it was Cloud, not consciously, but his tumultuous energy had somehow become caught up and–

The camera exploded in a shatter of shrapnel and sparks. There was a second of deathly silence as the entire base was plunged into darkness. Then the backup generator kicked in, and the alarm sounded.

"At least we need not be concerned about the cameras now," Sephiroth said, with a tone of forced calmness.

He sprinted the last couple of hallways before bursting from the military base and onto Junon's main concourse. There was a guard posted there; of course, how had Sephiroth not anticipated that?The man turned, mouth open to speak and eyebrows pulled together, and Sephiroth snapped his neck before either of them realised what was happening.

Another mistake. Sephiroth hadn't meant to– he had killed enough, he had wanted this escape to be free of any more deaths, and one of his own men at that. He'd been surprised, on edge. What consolation was that, when his first instinct was to kill?

He pushed away the queasy sensation in his stomach with years of practice. Regret would come later; it always did. And then he would just push it away again. It did no good now.

He needed to make a choice. The alarm was attracting attention; other members of the infantry would swarm the area soon. Hide, or attempt to continue regardless?

No. A better idea – both at the same time. Sephiroth slung Cloud over his back and vaulted from the concourse wall.

It was a forty foot drop to the water below. But Sephiroth had targeted the angle of their leap, aiming for a maintenance ladder just a little further across – locked and gated from the top of the concourse, but no such issue on the wall itself. He caught the rungs some five foot from bottom, the metal screeching in protest.

Sephiroth hung there for a moment, one hand a tight fist around the ladder, the other gripping Cloud's wrists to ensure he didn't fall. A few shaky breaths, then Sephiroth found his footing.

There was a tiny ledge that ran along the bottom of the wall, just above the water line. It didn't span the entire way – there were regular wide gaps where the sewers emptied out and ledge entered into them to allow for maintenance work. But although the openings were a good six or seven meters wide, it was not an impassable distance to jump for someone as enhanced as Sephiroth.

It would take them the entire way to the docks. Provided no one had seen their leap, and no one looked down, Sephiroth thought they may even be able to successfully avoid further detection. He hoped so. He was growing tired of this farce.

Of course, one last obstacle remained. He needed to get them on board a ship.

At this time of morning, it was only the cargo ships running. Good – dealing with passengers was too unpredictable. The freighter closest to their end of the docks was in the process of being loaded with myriad crates and shipping containers. That was the one he wanted.

There was only one entrance to the ship available; the massive cargo hold, currently open at the stern. It was swarming with workers and a pair of forklifts trundling back and would be foolish to attempt boarding that way.

However, there was still cargo to be loaded, and the cargo was relatively unguarded. It was _supposed_ to be guarded, but there seemed to be some confusion in the area. Infantrymen had left their posts, reporting to their superior or wandering in search of further instruction or information regarding the alarm that had been triggered in the base proper.

That mistake was useful for something, at least.

The maintenance path from the dock to their ledge was once again gated and locked, but, without the threat of pursuit, Sephiroth was able to take the time to delicately tear the lock apart. The shipping containers hid them from view, for most of the part.

Sephiroth was most interested those. The huge metal containers had doors that could be easily opened, unlike the wooden crates with the sides bolted into place. (Sephiroth could certainly have ripped the plywood off if required, but this mission required stealth, after all.)

He gently laid Cloud down out of sight and went to attempt the doors.

The background noise of the docks and constant hum of the freighter covered the screech of metal as he dragged the locks open. No good; the first container was piled high with boxes of ammo and weapon cases, filled to the brim. The second was better. Somewhat. There were three ShinRa spider mechs, one of the Weapons Department's specialities. Inactive for transport, of course, but Sephiroth was not familiar enough with their functionality to be certain they would remain that way. Not that it would concern him – but any such commotion could attract unwanted attention. Again.

Never mind – it would do. A forklift whirred nearby, picking up one of the wooden crates only a few containers down the line. They didn't have time to be fussy.

Sephiroth took Cloud back into his arms and shuffled the both of them into the spaces between the mechs. He shut the door behind him, jamming it from the inside. There was nothing he could do about the locks on the outside beyond hoping that no one noticed and closed them properly.

It was about ten minutes before the container shifted, jerking as it was hoisted up and transferred into the freighter.

Sephiroth found he could relax after that. They were on the ship, they were safe and unlikely to be discovered. At least until disembarkment at Costa del Sol, and Sephiroth had to admit he wasn't entirely sure what the best way to go about that would be.

But in the meantime, the journey would take some four hours. Sephiroth could actually get a moment to sleep. The wooden pallet flooring of a shipping container was not the most comfortable bed ever, but nor was it the worst he had experienced.

Sephiroth's lips curved up into a tight smile. They were on the ship, they were safe. At least for a moment. Without the pressure of discovery imminent, there was something… almost satisfying about their escape. There was a touch of nostalgia to it; those times when Sephiroth would hide from the lab assistants as a young child, purely for the enjoyment of it. It was something new, a challenge. It had been a long time since anything challenged Sephiroth. And if there was one thing Sephiroth was good at, it was rising to a challenge.

"Do not be concerned, Cloud," Sephiroth said, utmost conviction in his reassurance. "They will not take us back now."


	4. Chapter 4

Sephiroth had slept for maybe two or three hours. That was enough. Not for the long term, certainly, but enough that he felt more focused and capable for the task at hand.

They had a little over an hour until they arrived in Costa del Sol. He would follow the same technique in reverse to leave the ship; remain in the container while is was unloaded, then hope they were undetected while exiting. From there, they could pose as tourists. It would be relatively easy to get lost in the crowd, if not for Cloud's comatose state. That could prove detrimental. Carrying the young man around constantly would garner more attention than he wished, and potentially arouse suspicion.

He was wary of leaving Cloud alone and undefended, but… it would be late morning, on what had promised to be a relatively lovely day. Sephiroth had seen people 'sun bathing' before – he could, theoretically, leave Cloud on the beach for a brief period, perhaps beneath an umbrella or on a sun lounge if either were available, and have Cloud remain safe and undisturbed.

With freedom of movement, Sephiroth would then be able to arrange further transportation. Many buses ran between Costa del Sol and Gold Saucer, both major tourist destinations. Tourist transport to Cosmo Canyon ran less often, but that area too did have some draw. Perhaps he could find a coach tour that would take them.

It was comforting to have his tactics laid out and a plan in place. He felt content he had done all he could for the time being.

Sephiroth shifted on the wooden flooring. Cloud was beside him still, as deathly pale and unmoving as ever. There was some protective instinct that urged Sephiroth to pull him closer. That was foolish, though – being held in Sephiroth's arms may offer a degree of physical protection, but it could do nothing to reverse the harm already done, nor protect Cloud from being lost in his own mind as he was.

He reached out nonetheless, just a hand placed on Cloud's arm. It was intended as a reassurance. Sephiroth wondered who exactly he was trying to reassure.

"The hardest part is over," he said. His voice sounded too loud, out of place in the oppressive silence. He pushed aside the discomfort. If it could benefit Cloud – if Cloud could hear him – it was worth the awkwardness. "We will get you to Cosmo Canyon by this evening. They will be able to help you there."

At least, Sephiroth hoped that they could help Cloud there. There was Mideel, if that failed, but that would require further travel. Travel was risky with Cloud in this state. He hoped it didn't come to that.

There was no response from Cloud. That worried him. Even in the tank, Cloud had been starting to respond. The little twitches, the sense of his awareness. It seemed foolish to miss someone he had never even truly spoken to, but it felt like Cloud had slipped further away, and Sephiroth felt his absence keenly.

That connection they shared… he wondered if that was the culprit of such irrational emotions.

That connection they shared.

Sephiroth stared at Cloud, taking in every detail. Although his sleeping face was relaxed and impassive, he did not look peaceful. Sephiroth reached out slowly, touching his fingertips to Cloud's cheek.

"Cloud. I am going to try…"

He didn't know what he was going to try. He didn't understand... whatever their bond was. It seemed a nebulous thing, coming and going in unpredictable waves. He did not if it was even possible to instigate it of his own accord. He did not know how to achieve such a thing if it was.

Nonetheless.

'Cloud,' Sephiroth tried again. He spoke only in his mind this time, trying to imitate the mental connection they had felt before. His attempt felt flat and clumsy in comparison.

Sephiroth's throat tightened. If he could get through to Cloud, perhaps he could bring him back. But this was something he did not understand; he did not know how to make that connection, how to reach him, and if he couldn't, Cloud might never–

Sephiroth huffed a laugh at his own thoughts. Ironic, was it not? He had never been good at making connections with people.

He supposed… hm. How did one connect with people? What did Zack do? He always made it seem so easy.

Zack. Gaia, Sephiroth had messed that one up.

This was getting nowhere. His own thoughts were crowding in, getting in the way. That would most likely be a detriment.

He made a conscious effort to clear his mind. It wasn't quite relaxing, not when he had to try so hard to achieve it, but he kept it up. Even if it had no other benefit, spending some time in a meditative state would be beneficial for himself and his focus.

There was the roil of the ship, cresting the dips and troughs of the ocean. Sephiroth's own breath. Cloud's, faint and weak and too shallow, but there. His heartbeat echoing in Sephiroth's mind.

He was buffeted by the waves, dragged along, too tired to fight the current. Whatever was left of Cloud had curled into himself, trying to seek what little, futile protection he could. He had expended too much energy – reaching out to Sephiroth during their drive, the materia – and here energy meant his very existence.

His soul ached, and Sephiroth's heart ached in reply.

'Cloud,' Sephiroth breathed.

Even though he could feel Cloud's presence now, there was still no response.

He gave into the instinct this time, pulling Cloud's comatose form into his arms, barely thinking of what he was doing. The physical was irrelevant. What mattered was his energy. Their energy. He tried to reach out, wrap his energy around Cloud. It was clumsy – he could vaguely sense his own energy, his movements, but only through Cloud's weak awareness.

It did something. The constant, destructive battering of the Lifestream in Cloud's head lessened, and his soul shuddered a deep sigh.

'I'm here,' Sephiroth said.

Cloud was too weak to give the same level of almost-verbal sensation as a reply. But Sephiroth thought he could imagine just the lightest touch of Cloud's energy twining with his own. Like taking his hand, their fingers interlocking.

They stayed like that the rest of the journey. It was gradual, painfully slow, but Cloud's awareness began to shift, some of the energy starting to come back to him. By the time the ship's horn sounded, indicating their arrival, Cloud's energy pulsed like slow, even breaths.

Sephiroth reluctantly withdrew. He had to get them to physical safety as well, but he did not like to leave Cloud unprotected again.

Cloud understood. His energy brushed against Sephiroth's as he let go. _Thank you_.

Sephiroth lay and breathed for a moment longer. Even having parted from each other, he could still sense the underlying connection; an awareness of Cloud's presence that he could not explain.

The level of relief that washed through him at that realisation was irrational.

He shook himself. He had to prepare for their departure.

Sephiroth stood, and immediately had to brace himself against the side of the shipping container. He felt even more exhausted that before he had slept – less tired, but more a bone-deep weariness that manifested as physical weakness. He felt ragged, like the corners of his mind had been clawed at.

It took several heavy, too-quick breaths to steady himself.

He had been protecting Cloud in his mind, taking the damage that would otherwise have kept eroding at Cloud's psyche. The crushing pressure of the Lifestream in his head, the mako in his veins, inescapable.

Sephiroth resolve reignited. He needed to get Cloud whatever help he could.

The ship docked, and Sephiroth waited on tenterhooks. Their crate had been on of the last to be loaded, and thus would be one of the first to be removed. All his senses worked overtime, listening out for the movement of machinery, for the voices of the dock workers.

He waited. The machinery – another forklift, probably – deposited their crate and moved on, and Sephiroth scooped Cloud up into his arms. There was no sound but their own breaths. He reached out, ready to crack open the doors–

Sephiroth felt the brush of Cloud's energy, and turned to look at him.

"Shh. It's okay, Cloud. Just rest."

The push only became more insistent. He was pulling Sephiroth in, asking him to open up and listen.

"Stubborn," Sephiroth muttered. But then he understood.

Cloud braced himself, then let go. The energy overwhelmed him in an instant. It was busy – so busy here, so many people, so much energy. Every single one was another current, a swirl of existence, the energy buffeting against Cloud, straight through him, pulling pieces of himself away.

But Cloud held on to Sephiroth and ignored the tumult. It was the patterns that were important. The patterns of movement, where the energy was condensed. If he could read it right…

There was someone there, patrolling close to the containers.

 _Here_ , Cloud insisted.

Sephiroth let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"Alright," he said quietly. "Can you tell when they're gone?"

That was more difficult. There was _so much_ energy, and it threatened to overwhelm him. So many people. They overlapped, blurred into one, an endless sea of swirling Lifestream.

But he would manage. He could do it.

Cloud focused his awareness. It was starting to get to him, too much, tugging away at his sense of self again, his existence. Just a little longer.

There was a lull, the waves receding to leave just background noise, just for a moment. Cloud gave Sephiroth the energetic equivalent of a nod.

He moved the instant Cloud allowed it. Even if it was no guarantee – Cloud's ability was mostly untried, and they were both very aware of the inherent unreliability of trying to read the currents of the Lifestream in such a way – Sephiroth moved with no hesitation. There was no room for it.

He stepped out into the sunlight. A split-second to take stock – ShinRa troops, two patrolling the top bulwark, five in rotation guarding the shipping goods as they were unloaded, dock workers scurrying like ants between the docked ship and the unloading area. The container was directly facing all of these – but no one was facing them for that one vital moment.

Sephiroth swore under his breath. There was no gap between the containers, so he was forced to vault to the top of it, rolling with Cloud in his arms to keep as low down as possible. He dropped to the other side, a small gap between the containers and the low-fenced edge the dock, the ocean just beyond that.

Nobody had seen them.

He let out a shaky breath. "Thank you, Cloud," Sephiroth said, letting his gratitude saturate their mental link. "That would not have been possible without your aid."

Cloud sank back tiredly into himself, reforming the fragile cocoon of his own energy that helped hold his consciousness together. He was exhausted and shaky from the effort, but satisfied.

Safe from prying eyes for the time being, Sephiroth evaluated their location. They were on the side of the dock closest to the main beach and tourist area – that was good. They would be far less conspicuous in public areas. Unfortunately, there was a bulwark separating the docks and the beach. Even if Sephiroth did scale it, he would be very noticeable while doing so. The docks dropped off straight into the ocean.

He stared down into the water for a moment. It glittered invitingly in the bright morning sunlight.

"Hmm. Do you have any protests to swimming?" Sephiroth asked Cloud, mostly rhetorical this time.

Of course, Cloud couldn't possibly swim in the state he was in. And, frankly, Sephiroth would prefer his supplies did not get wet.

But then, they were at a dock, after all.

It wasn't hard for Sephiroth to shuffle along the little ledge of space left behind all the shipping crates and containers. Closest to the bulwark, there was an area of surplus and disused equipment. It was the wooden palettes in particular that had caught Sephiroth's interest.

There was rope there as well. Frayed rope, cut offs from the ends of other pieces, but enough to serve Sephiroth's purpose.

He lashed four of the wooden palettes together to form a makeshift raft. He found some empty plastic drums and roped them to the sides for extra buoyancy. It was not an elegant solution, but it would do.

He dropped the raft into the water – it seemed to float well enough. Lowering Cloud onto it was an endeavour that required more finesse. Sephiroth utilised some of the remaining rope pieces to abseil halfway down the side of the dock wall, gently dropping Cloud into place from there. The supplies he tossed down onto the raft as well.

Sephiroth stripped down to his underwear – the simple black briefs would pass as swimwear well enough – and added those to the pile of supplies.

With a small smile, Sephiroth dove from the dock into the water.

It was cold, but not unpleasantly so. He bobbed in the water a moment, regathering his sense of direction, before taking hold of the makeshift raft. He dragged it behind him as he swam round the edge of the bulwark.

He kept them as close to the wall as he could – they were less likely to be spotted that way. Content that the direction of the waves – against the bulwark – would prevent the raft drifting out to sea, Sephiroth left it for a moment and dove beneath the water.

The beach was active, but not yet heaving with tourists. The highest population density was further along, away from the shadow of the bulwark. There were only a handful of families closest to the dock area, children playing in the shallows.

For a moment Sephiroth was displeased – not being noticed at all would have been his first choice. But, then again, he could use that to his advantage.

Content with the results of his reconnaissance mission, he returned to the raft and pushed it round to the other side of the bulwark.

As expected, the children started to perk up and take notice as Sephiroth approached the shore. Sephiroth ignored them for the time being, landing on the beach to a small chorus of fascinated 'ooh's.

He collected up Cloud and his belongings. He gave a small smile to those watching – one that he hoped was reassuring, maybe a little wry, self-aware of his strangeness. But that was a lot of nuance for Sephiroth to try to put into a facial expression, he wasn't sure how successful it was.

"Would you like to play with this raft?" he offered.

The wide eyes got wider.

"Boat!" one young boy announced with delight, and that was enough to set the rest off. They ignored the strange silver-haired swimmer and his unconscious blond friend in favour of splashing back into the water and clambering onto the raft with glee.

A good distraction, and it took care of the evidence.

The parents of the families had started to take notice, but were more concerned by what the children were doing in the water. By the time they got a straight answer about where the 'boat' had come from, Sephiroth was already gone.

He took Cloud further up the beach, to a cluster of beach umbrellas and sun lounges he had noticed. There was a pang of guilt in his stomach at the idea of leaving Cloud now. He hoped Cloud would understand.

Sephiroth didn't speak out loud, not when there were so many people around, but he relayed his plan to Cloud in his mind. Cloud gave a small, tired hum of acceptance; it felt like a soft vibration in the energy of their mental connection.

Sephiroth laid Cloud out on one of the sun lounges, making sure he was as comfortable as possible and safely in the shade of an umbrella. He had the sort of skin that looked like it would burn easily.

Redressed and with his pack of supplies on his back, Sephiroth made haste for the town's main shopping area. He wanted to return to Cloud as quickly as possible.

The central parts of Costa del Sol were a tourist trap, filled with tacky souvenirs, overpriced, gaudy clothing, and hawkers shouting over each other to advertise their tours.

Sephiroth still felt out of place. Even with his hair back in a ponytail and a cap pulled down low over his face, he was too recognisable. His clothing of choice – even the civilian clothing he had packed – consisted of black cargo trousers and a tight dark top. Good for sneaking around during the night; far less suitable for blending in during the day.

He eyed one of the luridly floral shirts in disgust. Did they not have something that looked sufficiently holiday-like without having to sear peoples' eyes? Sephiroth wouldn't be seen dead in one of– oh.

The best disguise was one people would not expect.

With no small amount of reluctance, Sephiroth entered the nearest store. He bought himself an entire outfit, very glad for the years of practice in keeping his expression neutral as he handed over the cash. Hideous _and_ expensive.

But he had his disguise. The straw hat was big enough for Sephiroth to twist his hair up and hide the entirety of it beneath. Sunglasses covered his distinctive mako-green eyes. In shorts, sandals, and a horrendously neon blue and pink flowered top, he was certainly not going to stand out as being a SOLDIER elite.

He bought a similar outfit for Cloud as well – the young man could do with some clothes that actually fit, though Sephiroth could only take an educated guess as to his size. It was just a shame they had to be _those_ clothes and not something more tasteful.

The most important order of business remained: transport to Cosmo Canyon. Sephiroth walked amongst the shops and stalls offering various tours – the majority were to Gold Saucer, but a few went further afield to Gongaga and Cosmo Canyon.

He took a handful of leaflets from various companies, scanning through them analytically. Most only did one or two buses a day, leaving in the morning and allowing tourists the day in the Cosmo Canyon area before returning in the afternoon. They had missed the majority. But there was still one that left in a little over half an hour. It would not have been Sephiroth's first choice of company to use – it was gaudy and cheap and even in the brochure their coach looked out of date – but beggars could not be choosers.

Sephiroth booked two tickets on the coach.

He hurried back to the beach, reaching out mentally as if that could help him reach Cloud quicker. He could still sense Cloud; sense their connection. Cloud didn't seem to be feeling any additional distress.

Sephiroth slowed as he reached Cloud. The young man hadn't moved at all. It was both reassuring, and a bitter reminder at the same time.

Cloud was still in there, Sephiroth knew that better than anyone. They would get to Cosmo Canyon and figure out how to wake him up. They were so close now.

There was nothing that could be done about Cloud being comatose for the time being. But Sephiroth changed him into the tourist outfit he had bought. He smirked. The outfit was ridiculous; it looked ridiculous. But, somehow Cloud made it look amusing, almost sweet in its hideousness instead of simply being an insult to the senses.

Sephiroth laughed softly. "What a sight we make."

He hoisted Cloud up, holding him by his side this time. Cloud's arm over Sephiroth's shoulders, Sephiroth's arm around Cloud's waist. It was less strange to witness that than if Sephiroth used a bridal or fireman's carry for him.

Sephiroth caught sight of their reflection in a window as they made their way to where the tour departed. He wrinkled his nose. What a sight, indeed.

Although Cloud was unable to see himself, he must have picked up some sense of their appearance through Sephiroth's thoughts. And he _laughed_.

Sephiroth started, staring at the blond. No– he hadn't actually heard him laugh. It was just an echo in Sephiroth's mind, but it was the most real and tangible thing he had felt in his connection to Cloud. The energy of it bubbled out of him. It was light and uplifting, just for a moment, in the face of everything that threatened to drag his mind back down into oblivion again.

He had laughed.

Maybe the shirt was worth it, if it could get that response from Cloud.

They made it the coach without incident and boarded. Sephiroth belted Cloud into a window seat, taking the seat beside him for himself.

This was it. There was nothing more he needed to do. The coach would take them directly to Cosmo Canyon, posing as tourists. No ShinRa presence. They were not likely to be recognised. They had done it.

Sephiroth leaned back, trying to relax. He did not intend to let his guard down entirely – he never did – but he did not need to be so on edge anymore.

The coach journey would be another long one. He could rest. He would attempt the same protection he had provided Cloud while they had been smuggled away on the boat, to give Cloud a chance to recover as well.

Sephiroth took Cloud's hand, using the contact to reassure. "Not far now," he said.

Not far. Not compared to how far they had come. It had felt like an age, Sephiroth's brain working overtime to analyse and plan and complete their mission objectives with no intelligence or preparation. It had dragged the moments out. But… it had been fun, Sephiroth realised. Perhaps not a standard interpretation of fun. It was a challenge; a game. A dangerous game, but a game he had taken on and beaten. He had beaten ShinRa.

Sephiroth couldn't remember the last time he had been so truly satisfied in his successes. The last time he'd felt alive.

Maybe he had made the right decision after all, for both of their futures.


	5. Chapter 5

It's been a while since I looked at this story. Getting back into things is hard. Idk. It feels a bit off, but I can't tell if that's an issue storywise or just because I'm going through one of those patches that isn't quite writer's block, but just a lack of motivation or care to write anything in general.

At least it's a long chapter and stuff - finally - actually gets done.

* * *

They were the last to leave the tour bus.

Sephiroth stirred slowly, putting on the act of waking from a deep sleep in case anyone looked their way with suspicion. Nobody did. The other tourists filed out and dispersed, until it was only the driver left, remaining stubbornly at the wheel while she fiddled with some paperwork.

"Hurry it up, boys," her voice drifted back.

Sephiroth had wished to disembark unobserved, but it was not a huge hindrance to do otherwise.

"Apologies," he said as they filed past, all of Cloud's weight leaned against Sephiroth's side. "My friend fell asleep on the journey and is slow to wake."

No further comment was made, and the delay had at least given the rest of the tourists time to scatter.

It was late – the last hints of sunlight had vanished as they crossed the river into the start of the canyon proper, and now the only hint of Cosmo Canyon's signature orange glow came from the firelight that bathed the town. It seemed anyone who had travelled this late intended to stay in the town overnight.

Sephiroth considered accommodation as he carried Cloud up the steps that lead to the town's center. He was more likely to gain an audience with someone who could aid Cloud during the daytime – and if the negotiations ended badly, there were more transport options available. (Sephiroth would prefer to avoid attempting to hotwire another car, if possible. That had not gone entirely well last time.) But Sephiroth was impatient after a day of sitting still on boats and coaches, and the fewer people around at this time meant less witnesses. If things went badly.

Sephiroth would not be well-liked here, he understood that fully. He represented ShinRa; he was the essence of what many people here stood against. But he did not wish to approach these people with deception – that would only exacerbate their distrust.

Negotiations were delicate things, and he had never been entirely at ease with them. People could react unpredictably, and once deviated from his regulated script, Sephiroth had difficulty in salvaging the situation. It had on more than one occasion forced him to resort to his primary method of engagement - violence. He truly did not wish to kill anyone here.

(There was a very good reason missions of diplomacy were not left to SOLDIER.)

Waiting until morning would give Sephiroth more time to plan, consider what he would say and what reactions he may garner, and how to proceed from there. But for all that, his imagined scripts would likely bear no resemblance to the reality. It would help little.

Sephiroth quickly scanned the town, mentally mapping its layout. He had not been here before, only read about the place. And there had been a map – cartoonishly simple and only partially useful, but better than nothing – in the back of one of the brochures he had gathered in Costa del Sol.

The town of Cosmo Canyon was built into the side of its geographical namesake. The largest area was a plateau, featuring a central bonfire and entertainment area – to make the most of the tourist draw, Sephiroth suspected – with the surrounding buildings built either back into the cliff or suspended above it, accessible by ladder. They were mostly public buildings; inns, shops, restaurants and bars. The more residential areas were above, in the higher levels of the cliffs. There was only one stairway to access anything above the main plateau, and it was guarded.

Sephiroth stood still for a moment, trying to dampen his sense of foreboding. He did not find it comfortable talking to strangers at the best of times, and even less so when so much was on the line.

He touched Cloud's cheek. "I will do my best for your sake. Please forgive me if it is insufficient."

Sephiroth removed his hat, sunglasses and the ludicrous tourist shirt (he was not making a first impression wearing _that –_ he had kept his plain black tank top underneath). No deception.

He remained close to the canyon wall, wishing to remain out of the view of the majority, but not in any way that could be misconstrued as stealth. What was that training, from before they had given up on him? Open body language, Sephiroth recalled that one. Calm tone. It would probably do him well to keep his request and story as simple as possible.

The man on guard looked bored. He caught the movement of Sephiroth's approach, but didn't bother to look closer. "This area isn't open to tourists," he yawned. It was a phrase he clearly had to repeat far too many times a day.

Sephiroth stepped closer, into the light. "My friend is sick. I wish to speak with someone who can aid him."

No, that had been _too_ calm. Robotic. Creepy. Sephiroth was no good at this.

The guard stood up straighter at that – Sephiroth could tell the second he recognised who had approached. Eyes wide; fear, then a quavering resolve.

"ShinRa scum are not welcome here."

Sephiroth had been called worse. "My friend is sick. I wish to speak with someone who can aid him."

"You've got doctors in Midgar, haven't you? Get out. We don't want you here."

"They will not help him. I wish to speak with someone who can aid him."

"Well, find someone else. Cosmo Canyon doesn't do favours for your kind."

"My friend is sick. I wish to speak-"

"Alright, I get it!" The guard swiped at the sweat beading his upper lip. He knew of Sephiroth. Everyone did. He knew he could be snapped in half in a moment. Although his confidence had increased slightly with each non-reaction from the silver demon, they were at an impasse. Sephiroth did not show any sign of moving, and the guard was not foolish enough to risk his life provoking a goddamn war machine.

Some of the expressionless mask shifted from Sephiroth's face. "Cloud does not deserve to suffer for ShinRa's crimes. I only wish to find help for him."

The guard briefly glanced down at the comatose man in Sephiroth's arms – he hadn't paid much attention before, the kid certainly looked ill and in need of help – but his glare snapped back into place almost immediately. "You are _not_ welcome."

"Let me speak to one of your elders. Once I am content Cloud is in good care, I will leave."

Sephiroth did not want to leave – he could help, he was certain, if he could utilise their connection to his advantage – but if it were truly necessary he would.

The guard did not seem at all happy with the situation. He was an older man, heavyset but still a good head shorter than Sephiroth. He was there to stop nosy trespassers, not deal with _this_.

"I'll let Bugenhagen know you're here, but if he says you leave, you do it. And if you move from that spot while I'm gone, I will personally boot your ass out of my town. Understood?"

It was an empty threat, and a foolish one. The man irritated Sephiroth, but – diplomacy. It would do no good to anger these people. Still, it irritated him to be spoken to in such a manner.

"My friend is sick. I wish to speak with someone who can aid him," Sephiroth repeated calmly.

The guard's mouth twitched in annoyance. He spun on his heel and stormed up the stairs, muttering under his breath about Lifestream-sucking monsters.

It was a petty revenge, but Sephiroth was satisfied.

The canyon walls echoed the sound here; barely noticeable, but enough to be of benefit to Sephiroth's enhanced hearing. It seemed the man who had been guarding the place was making the situation well known, if the swelling murmur of voices, spreading and multiplying through the upper cliffs, was any indication.

Fair enough. Sephiroth would have done the same in the face of an unknown threat – spread intelligence to the forces, ensure they were prepared and aware they may be called to action if required.

Still, he hoped he would not be required to face a mob of anti-ShinRa civilians. He did not wish to kill anyone, but protecting Cloud was his priority... it would only end badly for all of them if it came to that.

Sephiroth held Cloud protectively, tight against his chest. He could hear the voices returning – the guard, amongst others. They were speculating about Sephiroth's intentions. Apparently they seemed to think he was a spy, to gather information to send back to ShinRa or, more likely, to murder them all in their sleep.

Ridiculous. If Sephiroth had wished to do that, he would have simply walked in and slaughtered them instead of wasting time attempting to gain their trust.

He suspected explaining that reasoning would not go down well.

A tinkling laugh accompanied the party as they descended the stairs. Bugenhagen, the guard had said. The name sound vaguely familiar to Sephiroth – a name he had heard Hojo mention once, and although he could not recall what it had related to, he remembered the disdain with which it had been uttered.

He was accompanied by four other men – the original guard whom Sephiroth had spoken to, and three others who had also clearly been picked for the job of defending their elder.

Bugenhagen, the elder in question, certainly looked the role; wisened skin and grey beard and robes. Despite his age, his eyes still seemed to be bright with interest and mischief. They softened with sympathy as Bugenhagen's gaze fell on Cloud.

"Ah. Your friend is sick, I hear."

"Yes. I... do not know how to help him," Sephiroth admitted. His words came out stilted, forced. He did not know how to speak to these people.

"And so you seek answers here."

Bugenhagen stared at them – no, at them, but beyond them – and Sephiroth had to stop himself from physically flinching. He had felt... something. The sensation came via Cloud; it was a stirring in the ripples of the Lifestream, like their mental connection, but wrong. A different frequency, foreign. It made the hairs on the back of Sephiroth's neck rise.

It only lasted an instant, and was only the lightest of touches, and then it was gone.

Bugenhagen hummed and nodded thoughtfully to himself. "It is true. That is your only purpose."

It was not a question. Bugenhagen _knew._

Sephiroth stared hard at the unassuming old man, immediately certain he had been the cause.

Sephiroth had heard of people with sixth senses, intuition, those who were said to be able to touch the current of the Lifestream and know things they could not have. They were few and far between, enough to be as good as non-existent in this day and age, and Sephiroth had always dismissed them as frauds – a habit picked up from Hojo, no doubt.

But now he reconsidered. He had a new, first hand appreciation of the Lifestream and of mental capacities that otherwise would have seemed absurd. If he wished to help Cloud... an open mind was necessary. It seemed Bugenhagen, whether intentional or not, had reached out and read something in Sephiroth's energy in order to evaluate his sincerity. That, at least, was Sephiroth's conclusion.

 _Good_. If he were capable of such a thing, perhaps the elder would be of greater use to Cloud's recovery than Sephiroth had dared to hope.

The men were arguing – petty, pointless arguments, that Sephiroth couldn't be trusted, ShinRa, demon spawn, he'd heard it all before – but Sephiroth was not paying attention. He was reappraising Bugenhagen in light of this new revelation, and it seemed Bugenhagen was equally reevaluating them.

"Oh ho ho, how curious. Curious indeed. Now, what is it you say ails him?"

"Mako poisoning," Sephiroth answered curtly. He did not wish to go into details with the other residents listening.

"And what ails _you?_ "

Sephiroth stayed silent for a long moment, uncertain. Was the elder aware of the connection Sephiroth and Cloud shared? Although he had somewhat come to terms with it, even feeling its absence in the moments Cloud's awareness waned, he could not say he understood why or how such a thing had come about. And that unnerved him.

"...I do not know," was all Sephiroth could answer.

A clap of hands brought Sephiroth back from his thoughts. "Well, bring the poor boy up! No sense catching him a cold on top of everything else!" Bugenhagen chuckled and led the way, floating up the stairs.

Sephiroth stared, already considering Bugenhagen to be, quite possibly, the most bizarre person he had ever met. He seemed the direct opposite of the ShinRa scientists Sephiroth had grown up among. But perhaps that was the best thing for Cloud now.

Cloud's head lolled against Sephiroth's shoulder. Sephiroth chose to stare down at him rather than acknowledge the glowers and distrust on the faces of those he passed as he followed Bugenhagen into the heights of the town.

Sephiroth made a hum of displeasure as he returned to himself. His chest burned, breaths shuddering as though he had been underwater. He must have forgotten to breathe again.

A thread of concern wound its way through Sephiroth, the energy starting from where his hand held Cloud's.

"I am fine," Sephiroth said out loud.

The concern only deepened – Cloud was frowning at him.

Perhaps Sephiroth was pushing himself. But he had been pushed to his limits before, for reasons as insignificant as Hojo's whims, and this was something far more important.

It was the same as when Sephiroth had discovered a way of mentally protecting Cloud while on the ship from Junon. It left him feeling ragged, fragmented. The world didn't look quite the same afterwards – there were holes where his feelings and reactions should have been. It healed, and his energy returned to him, but he admitted it was starting to take longer each time.

They had been in Cosmo Canyon for four days. Sephiroth had spent most of his time trying to give Cloud the strength to come back.

He ate when he remembered, and he spoke to Bugenhagen sometimes, though there was little progress to report after the first day or two. He did not go out and face any of the townspeople – his presence caused distress here, it was better he stay away.

Sephiroth had informed Bugenhagen of the mental connection he experienced with Cloud, how he knew Cloud was still alive and aware. In return, Bugenhagen told Sephiroth of the lore of the Lifestream, and how it tied together with Cloud's condition. It was knowledge he did not necessarily believe, but Sephiroth filed the information away regardless.

Cosmo Canyon's culture possessed several practices designed to increase one's connection to the Lifestream; between the two of them, Sephiroth and Bugenhagen had taken some of these and attempted to apply them to increasing the bond between Sephiroth and Cloud.

Bugenhagen claimed that, in order for Cloud to regain consciousness, he needed to regain possession of his sense of self – something that was terribly easy to lose when inundated with the sweeping tides of the Lifestream, the echoes of a thousand lives that pulled his mind apart from the inside. That fit with Sephiroth's experiences of how it had felt in Cloud's mind.

Their bond was a shortcut of immeasurable benefit. Sephiroth could either protect Cloud from the Lifestream, giving him the space to remember and reform himself, or he could talk to Cloud and draw him out that way.

Only he fucking couldn't.

Even when Sephiroth wrapped his own energy around Cloud, protecting him from the onslaught, it wasn't enough. He tried to draw Cloud out, to get him to remember something about himself, his former life, but the energy that Cloud emitted just became dazed, confused... sometimes even scared and unwilling.

It was _frustrating_. They had come so far, and he still was not able to help Cloud. If Cloud never returned, what had it been worth? Sephiroth had thrown everything away, for _this_.

He felt Cloud's energy withdraw, shying away from his anger.

"I apologise," Sephiroth said, sighing. "I am.. merely tired."

He reached out – that was one of the few useful things he had learned while here, how to enter a meditative state and open himself to his connection to Cloud far more readily – and let Cloud feel his apology. His worry, his wish he could do more for Cloud.

 _Tired_ , the sensation echoed back at Sephiroth.

They could have conversations, almost, in a strange and only partially-verbal way.

 _Rest_.

Sephiroth shook his head. "I cannot leave you to suffer alone." And perhaps there was a more selfish reason; while he was busy fighting in Cloud's mind, he did not need to consider the state of his own, or how he would deal with the fallout of... all of this.

 _Rest_ , Cloud repeated, this time tinged with his own worry and frustration. _Stubborn._

"I want to help you."

 _You're not helping anyone if you let the Lifestream pull you apart instead_.

Sephiroth sat up abruptly, ignoring the exhaustion that flooded through him. He rolled over and stared at Cloud. That was the most coherent thing he had ever gotten from him... and also Cloud had just been downright snarky.

Sephiroth had to acquiesce to Cloud's reasoning, however much he disliked leaving the young man to fend for himself. Sephiroth's own mental defenses were shaky and overused, whereas Cloud seemed much stronger, in no danger of slipping away. They had made good progress if his personality was starting to seep through.

It was slow progress, though, painstaking and frustrating.

Sephiroth got to his feet, fingers lingering for a moment where they were twined with Cloud's. He was not abandoning him, just going for a walk and to seek sustenance.

Cloud did the mental, energy-based equivalent of rolling his eyes. _Go. I'm fine._

Sephiroth moved as though sleepwalking. It was late again – he had little concept of time while sharing Cloud's mako-tainted mindspace. Few residents were around. They still looked at Sephiroth with anything from distaste to outright hostility, but he was too tired to let it bother him.

They would have to move from this place soon anyway. Bugenhagen had been somewhat helpful, certainly informative if not directly able to aid Cloud's recovery. In terms of practicality, Sephiroth had been able to care for Cloud better – wash the mako from his skin, get him some decent clothes, make him comfortable even if it was only on a couch in Bugenhagen's lab-slash-observatory.

(A room at the inn would have been more suitable, but Sephiroth preferred to be as far away from prying eyes as possible. Bugenhagen was one of the very few who did not seem to resent their presence. And the machines in his workshop were fascinating.)

But Sephiroth did not wish to take advantage of the already fragile hospitality. And he had no means of determining how close ShinRa's forces may be to finding them.

He had not been flawless. The mistakes at Junon were costly – a man dead, the alarm triggered. Even if they had not been seen, it was enough of a clue for the Turks. They had a location and a time, they would easily conclude that Sephiroth had gone off-continent. Likely they could even find the ship he had taken and its destination.

They would have to move on soon. Sephiroth had wished to remain in one place until Cloud awoke, but he did not know if that would be possible.

The tourist area was more crowded, though not bustling. A few groups remained in the restaurant where Sephiroth went to buy his meal – they fell immediately silent when he entered.

He ordered his food to take away, since remaining there to eat would only extend the time spent in the awkward, resentful atmosphere. Sephiroth waited at the counter. He could still feel the gazes on his back as the patrons returned to their conservations, subdued now. Even though they spoke in quiet murmurs, Sephiroth could pick out more than one insult leveled at either ShinRa or himself.

It was no matter. They were hating an image crafted by the PR department – the 'Sephiroth' they imagined had little relation to himself. It was not personal. He knew better than to spare any thought for their words.

 _You think you're so above everything,_ spat the memory of Genesis' accusation. One of many, and all long in the past now. Perhaps he had not been wrong. But he failed to understand it was the only way for Sephiroth to function, even if it did mean he came across as aloof and withdrawn. If it resulted in his own isolation.

Sephiroth... missed Zack, he realised. He had never had many friends to begin with. Those he had once trusted were gone now; Zack was the only one who remained. But Sephiroth had left him behind as well. Nobody who he had ever been close to knew where he was – instead he was surrounded by strangers who despised him, with only a comatose young man who was, realistically, equally as much a stranger to him for company.

It hurt to think too much about it, a hollow ache in his chest. Sephiroth was familiar with the sensation, though it had not used to come so frequently or so strong.

He was just tired, and being irrational. Things would be better once Cloud awoke, and once he had a plan for their future. He had been so certain he had made the right choice – he would not let some wayward emotion convince him otherwise.

Cloud was safe. Sephiroth was no longer ShinRa's pawn. They could work the rest out.

Sephiroth took his food and paid, polite but curt. The door slammed behind him when he left.

The cool night air felt good. It was quiet outside, too. Sephiroth took his time winding back up the stairs to Bugenhagen's observatory, looking up at the stars simply to admire them rather than using them for navigation. Stars were rarely visible from Midgar – too much smog and light pollution. Sephiroth decided he liked being able to see them.

 _Hey_ , Cloud greeted upon Sephiroth's returned. Perhaps calling it a greeting was generous. It was a swirl of Cloud's energy that buffeted against Sephiroth's own.

He had learned to interpret.

Cloud drew back, then reached out again, slower. Sephiroth did not reciprocate as he normally would. He was still fatigued and not feeling entirely willing to socialise.

 _Lonely._

Cloud meant him. Sephiroth huffed a short half-laugh. After all, what business did a weapon have feeling lonely?

He felt the change like a chill in the room.

Although it was hard to proceed with no scientific basis for his observations, Sephiroth had identified two key components in this new form of communication he shared. There was the specific energy signature that he knew to be 'Cloud', like one might know a person's voice, distinct from the surging, eroding energy of the Lifestream. Then there was the vibrational component, a specific frequency of the energy that seemed to convey Cloud's feelings and intentions.

(Sephiroth could not sense his own, except in distorted feedback via Cloud, but Cloud must have been able to sense him the same way Sephiroth could sense Cloud.)

The frequency Cloud was communicating with had dropped. It didn't feel like it had been a conscious decision on Cloud's part, merely a reaction. He had felt something in Sephiroth's energy, and it resonated within him.

 _Lonely_.

Cloud knew what it was like to feel lonely.

Sephiroth didn't want to entertain the sensation any longer, but Cloud-

"Stop that," Sephiroth said.

Cloud trembled. He was trying, but it was like trying to hold back a dam that threatened to burst. Two sets of frequencies on the same wavelength, amplifying each other.

Sephiroth had spent so much effort on learning to increase their connection; how foolish to have not considered the need to cut it off. The ache in his chest was back, artificially created this time. The room was starting to swim, pins and needles in his fingertips.

Cloud was dragging him in, and Sephiroth did not know how to stop it.

He had dropped his food somewhere along the way. Sephiroth sank down next to Cloud, taking his hand and squeezing it harshly. As if he could physically drag Cloud out of the swirling energy matrix of his own creation.

That was an awful idea. The physical contact only made their connection stronger – made it worse.

 _Lonely lonelylonelylonely alon e_

Sephiroth felt it as keenly as when he had been there; the door to a mako tank closing on a terrified child, experiments and tests, his inauguration to SOLDIER, standing in a sea of faces that looked up to him but were all closed off. The biting wind through the Nibelheim mountains as he chased after a nameless shadow, bruised and aching at the bottom of a rocky scree, being left there for dead.

Those weren't his memories. More surprised than he cared to admit, Sephiroth's focus slipped, and-

 _I didn't want you to see._

–it was dark, suddenly. Pitch black instead of mako green and ice cold. And Cloud... Cloud stood out of reach, his back to Sephiroth.

It took him several long moments to gather himself. "Ah. Splendid. Now I am in your mind as well," Sephiroth observed, deadpan.

Cloud jerked and turned to stare. "Get out," he hissed. "Get _out!_ "

"I would love to, if I knew how." He tried not to be stung by Cloud's vehemence; after all he had done to try and _help_...

Cloud quietened at that. "What happened?"

"I wish I knew. Perhaps then we could undo it."

"Where did they go?" Cloud must have sensed Sephiroth's lack of understanding and elaborated. "The Lifestream, all the voices..."

They had hurt, but it was strange for him to be without them after so long. The quiet felt deathly, the isolation terrifying in its familiarity. Now even the planet had forsaken him.

Isolation.

"Clever," Sephiroth said slowly. Of all the things Cloud had been anticipating, a compliment was not one. "I cannot judge with any certainty how these things work, but I would put forward the hypothesis that, by amplifying and utilising our combined energies on a frequency purporting 'isolation', you may have in fact isolated yourself from the Lifestream's influence, at least temporarily."

Cloud laughed, though it was not a happy sound. "It wasn't intentional. And now I've dragged you into this mess as well. You... really are Sephiroth, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I'd kind of hoped I was just imagining that bit." Cloud sat down, curling his knees to his chest. "I didn't want to meet you until I'd made it into SOLDIER."

Sephiroth did not know what to say to that. He let the silence linger, but sat down next to Cloud until he was ready to talk again.

"I never made it. I was never good enough. And now you've spent so much time trying to help me, and I'm... stuck like _this!_ " Cloud sighed, gesturing vaguely at the nothingness.

But that caught Sephiroth's attention. "You were part of the SOLDIER program. Do you know what happened?"

"I failed. A few times, actually." He said it matter-of-factly, but Sephiroth could still sense the sting Cloud felt in those words. "I don't... remember. My memories are all weird here. One of the last things I recall, though... I heard one of the scientists talking, the ones who do the mako tests for the SOLDIER exam, and I think one of my COs. Probably Jackson. He was always an ass and had it out for me.

"But, whatever. They just said... there was something weird about the mako tests. And Jackass told them I was... what was it? A 'pathetic runt' and 'never going to get anywhere in the army'? He said no one would miss me. And, hey. He wasn't fucking wrong."

For a moment the world beneath them lilted, a crack of green glowing in the distance like a lightning strike.

Cloud trembled for a moment, then shook himself. "Look. I appreciate you trying to help, but I'm really not worth it. So, you leave, and I'll get out of this mess without dragging anyone else through hell with me, and... I'll see you in SOLDIER."

"No, you won't."

Cloud flinched, immediately – incorrectly – jumping to the conclusion that Sephiroth agreed he had been failed for good reason.

"I am no longer part of SOLDIER, or ShinRa."

"...what?"

"I left when I removed you from the labs. I do not intend to return."

"You-" Cloud's eyebrows pulled together, shock and fear and disbelief. It was his fault.

"There is something more than just mako poisoning involved. I am equally as tied to this as you, through no wrongdoing of your own. We would do best to work together. Do you think you can wake up?"

"I've tried, but..." But he had been going about it wrong, still trying to suppress all the things he considered his weaknesses. He'd been trying to put on a front for Sephiroth. He couldn't hide and reclaim himself at the same time. Cloud shook his head and gave Sephiroth a weak smile. "Guess I just gotta try some more, huh."

Sephiroth nodded. "You may have greater success now that the Lifestream has been temporarily distanced."

"Uhm..."

"Hm?"

"You should probably get out of my head first. I mean, what if we both got stuck in the same body or something fucked up like that?"

Sephiroth gave Cloud a deadpan look, one that earned a small laugh from Cloud.

"While I agree that is a wise course of action, I am not entirely sure how to proceed in doing so," Sephiroth said.

Cloud rolled his eyes. "You expect me to wake up and you don't even know how to do it yourself. C'mon." Cloud stood, taking Sephiroth's hands and guiding him to standing as well. "You just need to... go."

Cloud reached out, gently pushing Sephiroth's sternum. At least, that was what his physical actions indicated. In terms of energy, it felt more like being hit with a train. More of those mako cracks appeared in the empty blackness, echoing like a cannon shot, but Sephiroth did not get to see the outcome before being forcibly jerked back into awareness.

He _felt_ like he had been hit with a train. His breathing was heavy, heart pounding, muscles aching as though they had been tensed the entire time he had been in Cloud's mind.

The food Sephiroth had bought had long since gone cold, though it had somehow migrated from the floor onto the coffee table. There was also a note taped to the back of Sephiroth's hand.

'Come and find me if you wake up – Bugenhagen'

Sephiroth scowled at it. Useful.

It wasn't important, though. What was important was... Cloud. He still showed no change. Deathly pale, the shallow rise and fall of his chest almost imperceptible.

Sephiroth sighed, deep and exhausted. There was nothing more he could do now.

On shaky legs, he tidied away the food and a few items that had been knocked over. He had a borrowed futon that he laid out beside Cloud's couch. There were blankets somewhere too, but Sephiroth didn't have the energy to care about those. A pillow was more than enough.

It was curious how dealing with this form of energy, battling the Lifestream, left him far more worn down than any physical exertion had in decades. The weariness ran bone-deep, but Sephiroth spared one last glance at Cloud before giving in to the siren song of sleep.

Cloud's eyes opened.


End file.
